


Claiming A Life-Debt

by all_not_well



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humiliation, M/M, Prostitution (of a sort), Troilism (Kinda), Voyeurism (Maybe), dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 17:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1990821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_not_well/pseuds/all_not_well
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco has a rather unique way of repaying his life-debts. Harry just wants what he's owed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claiming A Life-Debt

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.

Gregory Goyle came tromping down the stairs from the boys' dorms to the Eighth Year common room at half-seven on a Thursday evening, with his face red and his dark hair streaked with sweat, looking smug as Harry hadn't seen him since the night that Voldemort finally met his sticky end. Goyle joined the small knot of Slytherins in their corner of the room, taking up more than his fair share of the sofa they'd appropriated, and leaned in to whisper in Zabini's ear.

Harry nudged Ron in the ribs and waited, drumming his fingers on the tabletop, until Ron dragged his gaze up from the parchment he'd been squinting at for the past hour.

"What d'you suppose _he's_ been up to, then?" Harry asked, tilting his chin in Goyle's direction.

Ron spared the Slytherins a brief glance. "Dunno," he muttered. "He went up with Malfoy twenty minutes ago. Maybe Malfoy got something from home in the post - I've only really ever seen Goyle look that happy when he's stolen someone else's sweets." Ron bent over his parchment once more, chewing absently on the end of his quill as he read over the last few inches he'd written.

"He went up with Malfoy?" Harry sat up straight, all pretense of subtlety forgotten as he glared at the Slytherins. "D'you think they might be up to something?"

Zabini glanced up and caught Harry's look. He sneered back, then murmured something that set the others to snickering.

Ron sighed and closed his eyes. He rubbed at the narrow crease that formed between his brows with callused fingers and exaggerated patience. "Please tell me you're not going to start that up again," he said. "Honestly, I don't see why they'd bother at this point. They lost the _war_ , mate. They're not going to make things worse for themselves by stirring up trouble now."

"That doesn't mean they're not up to something. Malfoy's trial is coming up...he could be plotting a way to get out of it."

"If that were the case, he'd have been plotting with Zabini or somebody. You know - someone with an actual brain."

Ron pulled Harry's essay towards him and scanned the contents, then scribbled a few more lines onto his own parchment.

"Just let it go, Harry," he advised as he wrote. "They were probably fighting, anyway. You know they haven't got on well since Crabbe - you know."

Harry did know; he'd had his eye on Malfoy since term began, just in case. And Malfoy still hadn't come back down. It wasn't that late - not even curfew yet, and far too early for Malfoy to have turned in for the night. Unless he was sick, or hurt. Or up to no good. Harry frowned.

"Maybe someone should check on Malfoy, then. In case Goyle kicked his arse and he needs to go to the hospital wing."

Ron snorted. "Make up your mind," he muttered under his breath. In a louder tone, he added, "I say leave them to it. Malfoy definitely needs a good arse-kicking now and again, and it saves us having to do it ourselves."

But Harry was already gathering his things.

 

He thought he'd find Malfoy a bit roughed up, maybe. Possibly in tears, and wouldn't that have been delicious?

He certainly didn't expect to find Malfoy lying face down on his bed with his face pressed into his pillow, bare-naked from his waist to his knees, with blood-streaked come on his thighs.

"Bloody hell," Harry whispered.

Malfoy turned his head and opened his eyes at the sound of Harry's voice. They were oddly blank and empty, the dull grey of dirty dishwater.

"Is he gone?" Malfoy asked. His voice was a harsh rasp in his throat.

"Common room," Harry managed to say, though his tongue felt strange and thick in his mouth.

Malfoy nodded jerkily and fumbled for his trousers.

"Wait."

Malfoy froze. Something flickered in his eyes, too brief for Harry to make heads or tails of the emotion. His fingers flexed, twisting in the fabric of his trousers, then stilled.

Harry carefully closed the door behind him and locked it with the strongest spell he knew.

Malfoy began to tremble at that, but he didn't move.

"You just let him fuck you?" Harry choked out through his suddenly dry throat as he took one slow step towards the bed, then another. His cock throbbed, half-hard, behind the placket of his trousers, but he didn't want to think about that. This was just...curiosity. It didn't make him gay or anything.

"That's what he wanted from me. I - I owed him a life-debt."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Life-debt? You mean like you owe me?"

Malfoy nodded and closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

Harry didn't know what possessed him to reach out and touch the curve of Malfoy's arse. It was pale and pretty, round and lush as a girl's. Not that Harry had ever seen a girl's naked arse, outside of a few quick glimpses in the dirty mags that sometimes made their way around the Gryffindor boys' dorms. But he'd imagined plenty behind his bed curtains.

Malfoy's skin was just as soft as he'd imagined a girl's would be. He was petting Malfoy's arse before he'd really thought about it, stroking gently, getting a feel for the fine tremors that went through Malfoy's body at each touch of Harry's fingers.

He jerked his hand away when Malfoy shifted on the bed, but Malfoy was only lifting himself up onto his knees, spreading his legs to give Harry better access.

Submitting quietly, without a fuss.

Harry felt a thrill go through him, a sudden electric shock that streaked down his spine and settled heavily in his balls. His cock leapt to full hardness in his trousers.

He could see Malfoy's arsehole. It was red and swollen and so very _wet_. Harry was dipping his fingers into it before he could stop himself. Malfoy cried out softly, his hands clenching in the sheets.

"Did it hurt when he fucked you?" Harry asked breathlessly.

Malfoy nodded. "He's - ah - really - really big." 

Malfoy was sucking in harsh breaths now, practically sobbing as Harry worked his fingers in Malfoy's hole. Malfoy's arse was hot and tight and slippery, and Harry's fingers made nasty squelching noises as they slipped in and out. They were streaked with blood and lube and _Goyle's spunk_ , disgusting and dirty and so very _wrong_. Just like Malfoy himself.

"Have you ever done this before? Let someone fuck you up the arse?"

Malfoy hesitated, then nodded, one curt bob of his blond head. His eyes were still closed, as though he could somehow hide himself in the darkness behind his eyelids. Harry wanted to see the grey.

He was beginning to think that there might be something terribly not-right within himself, as well. He was about to come in his fucking trousers. From touching a boy's _arse_. _Malfoy's_ arse. Malfoy's filthy, used, gorgeous arse.

Maybe Harry qualified as gay, after all. Or at least partly-gay, if there was such a thing.

"Are you going to let Goyle fuck you again?"

"If he - if that's what he wants."

"Oh," said Harry softly, thinking of the satisfied look on Goyle's face when he'd come down to the common room. "I'm fairly certain he will."

Malfoy flinched.

Harry wiggled his fingers deeper, drinking in Malfoy's soft whimpers. Goyle had really done a number on him; he was bleeding still.

"You're going to have to practice stretching yourself, so he doesn't tear you next time," Harry mused. "You wouldn't want to have to go to Pomfrey for this sort of thing."

Malfoy gulped and nodded.

Harry played with him for a few minutes longer, fucking Malfoy's arse with his fingers, his movements growing less hesitant, more certain, as his confidence grew.

This. He needed this. He needed to _own_ this.

"This is what you owe me," Harry said. He couldn't believe the words pouring from his mouth. He felt light-headed, removed from the situation, as though someone else was speaking and he was just the conduit, yet at the same time this desire was so perfectly _his_ that there was no pretending it could have come from anywhere other than deep inside himself. He wiggled his fingers again, to emphasize his words. "This is what I want from you."

Malfoy slowly opened his eyes. They weren't dull anymore, but bright with unshed tears. "What?"

"This." Harry jabbed his fingers in deep, wiggling them as much as he could in the tight, sloppy channel. He smiled when Malfoy winced.

"Anytime you get fucked," he said, "no matter who or when, you come to me straight after, just as fast as you can find me. No showers, no cleaning spells until I'm done with you. I want to see you just like this, every single time. Want to see your arse loose and wet and filthy."

Malfoy's eyes were wide, not quite comprehending. He nodded once, the movement slow and jerky.

"This arse is mine now. This is what you owe me."

Malfoy nodded again.

"Say it."

"This is what I owe you," Malfoy said, his voice flat and dull.

"What do you owe me?"

"My - my arse."

"Good boy," said Harry, smiling. "Now tell me what you're going to do with that arse."

"I'm going to - to come to you, after I--" Malfoy hesitated, licking his lips.

"When you're used and filthy," Harry prompted. "Say it," he added, when Malfoy only continued to stare at him.

"When I'm used and filthy," Malfoy whispered.

"That's good. That's a good little whore. That's what you are, isn't it? Whoring yourself out to pay your debts."

Malfoy nodded, closing his eyes. One tear slipped from his eye to splash on the pillowcase.

"But you're _my_ whore now," said Harry.

"Your whore," Malfoy repeated softly.

Satisfied, Harry withdrew his fingers and wiped them on Malfoy's sheets. He replaced them a moment later with the tip of his wand, sliding it right into Malfoy's arsehole. Malfoy cried out once, a high, keening sound like a wounded animal.

"Episkey," Harry murmured, ignoring Malfoy's shuddering flinch, then carefully withdrew his wand. He smacked it once across Malfoy's white arse-cheeks. The blow left a satisfying stripe of vivid red in its wake.

"Go get yourself cleaned up."

Malfoy scrambled off the bed at once, yanking his trousers up as he ran for the door. His shoulders shook with silent sobs, and he hid his face behind the pale curtain of his long hair. His shaking hands fumbled at the doorknob; he gave a wordless cry of frustration when it refused to open.

Harry lazily flicked his wand to cancel the locking spell. Malfoy yanked the door open and fled in the direction of the showers.

Unable to resist any longer, Harry unzipped his trousers to free his stiff, aching cock. He spit on his palm and jerked one, twice, then came all over Malfoy's dirty sheets.

Yeah. Definitely probably partly-gay, at the very least. Harry grimaced. Ron would have a field day when he found out.


End file.
